


pink, purple and grey

by starknight



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Doctor Who: Academy Era, Epiphanies, Gen, Inspired by Serial: s064 The Time Monster, The Daisiest of Daisies, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Uses They/Them Pronouns, Theta just has a very bad day, and the mountain monk helps them to see things in a different light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknight/pseuds/starknight
Summary: Sometimes Theta has bad days. Sometimes Koschei is mad for no discernible reason. Sometimes the head of their chapter singles them out in the middle of class and humiliates them in front of their classmates.One day, it all happens at once.
Relationships: The Doctor | Theta Sigma & Unnamed Mountain Monk (Doctor Who: Academy Era)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	pink, purple and grey

**Author's Note:**

> This is my detailing of the 3rd doctor's daisiest daisy speech, because it hit me right in the feels when I wasn't expecting it and it wouldn't get out of my head. I hope you enjoy 💖
> 
> (also if you're not logged in, ao3 has had to change their system a little bit so that guests don't make hits anymore. so if you are a guest and you do enjoy this even a little bit, please leave kudos! bless and thank you!)

The mountainside is grey, grey, and more grey. The sky is cloudy and overcast, its twin suns doing a mediocre job of lighting up the day. As Theta picks their way up the winding mountain path, their feet crush a few sparse blades of grass. In winter, the path becomes impassable with waist-high snow, sparkling and glittering beneath the sun, but it’s late spring, and all that remains are a few brown sludgy patches.

It’s all they can do to keep their feet going, one after the other, one step at a time. Today was horrible. For a start they didn’t sleep well, so they slept in, missed breakfast, they were late to cosmological science, and Koschei wouldn’t make eye contact with them all through the lecture. Even at lunch, Theta’s best friend just sat and held a staring contest with their soup. 

Koschei gets like that sometimes. Theta doesn’t begrudge them. Theta does wish Koschei would just tell them what was going on, but if Koschei doesn’t want to, Koschei will not. And so Koschei doesn’t. And Theta never really knows what to do.

After lunch they had a gathering of the Prydonian chapter. In a mixture of hunger, sleep deprivation, and anxiety-induced fatigue, Theta had slipped into a fitful sleep as Borusa droned on and on about the debate topics for the week. The topics would usually be something fascinating, like  _ are TARDISes ethical?, _ but Borusa had a special talent for making the most gripping subject sound as dull as the mud Theta was now stomping through.

But what would usually have been a relaxing naptime had turned into the last straw when Borusa had noticed Theta sleeping, woken Theta up with their shouting, and proceeded to launch into a lengthy tirade about their lack of discipline, subpar abilities and rebellious tendencies. Theta didn’t understand why their brain remembered every single word of that.

_ Not good enough… Too much time spent on frivolities… Asks too many questions… Not suitable for the mighty Prydonian chapter… Needs to be cut down to size… Needs to pay attention to their elders…  _

_ Theta’s not good enough. Theta should stop trying. Theta will never be welcome here. _

That’s what Borusa should have said. Why beat around the bush? Get the truth right out there. Because it’s true: Theta doesn’t fit in, never has, never will. The only person who really understands them is Koschei, and what’s the point of that, if they don’t understand Koschei back?

It’s useless, all of it. Theta thinks they’ll probably fail at the academy, and what then? The Council would never grant them use of a TARDIS. Not in a million years. They’ll just live out their twelve regenerations here, alone, misunderstood, alone, and die in the same house on the same mountain on the same planet.

They look up when they get to a gnarled old tree. It’s a miracle it’s still standing, really, given the amount of snow it gets laden with each year. Beneath the tree is the old monk. Theta doesn’t even know their name. But it’s said that they know all the secrets of life, and that they learnt them from sitting underneath this old tree. Theta’s desperate enough to try anything at this point.

“Hello,” says Theta, sitting down next to them.

The monk blinks, but it’s not clear if it’s in acknowledgement. Theta tilts their head. The monk still doesn’t respond.

“Um. My life is not good. And I need someone to fix it. Can you fix it? Please. I need you to fix it. Because most of the time I can talk to Koschei - that’s my best friend - but they’re ignoring me and I don’t know why, and I’ve got this stupid headache, and Borusa will never ever let me graduate, and I’m going to be stuck here. And the other day, I was trying to do my work, but stupid Jelter was deliberately trying to mess with it, they all do, because I’m too different. Why am I so different? All I do is try to fit in…”

Theta goes on like this for quite a time. They don’t know if the monk’s listening, but it doesn’t really matter, because they can’t stop. They’re not even crying; somehow they’re too unhappy for that. They get all of the word vomit out of their system, all of the rage and pain and hurt that’s been tangling around them for weeks, months, years.

When they finish, they sigh. They don’t feel much better, but it seems the pressing weight of their life has lifted just a little.

“Can you help me?” they ask the monk. “Can you tell me the secrets of life?”

The monk raises a quivering, skeletal hand slowly. Theta’s gaze tracks the line from where they point to - a flower.

“What?” they ask stupidly.

The monk continues pointing at the flower. Theta looks properly at it.

It’s just a daisy. Nothing particularly special about it. It has a green stalk with a tiny leaf shooting off the side, and a yellow inner made up of hundreds of tiny golden dots. The petals are white and shining in the light on the hill. The tiny flower sways gracefully like a dancer in the breeze. And actually - now that Theta looks closely, they think it’s the most daisy-est daisy to have ever daisied.

It’s  _ beautiful. _

Theta looks back at the monk, feeling tears spring to their eyes. The old, gnarled tree creaks above them, and when they look up, they feel the brisk mountain air whipping over their face. The tree’s leaves are a vibrant green, and if they could make a sound, Theta thinks they would hum with life.

The tears begin to track down Theta’s cheeks, but they don’t bother wiping them away. They look out at the hillside instead, and they see it through the eyes of the old monk. The rocks that line the path aren’t grey at all. They’re pink and purple, blue and aqua, flecked with black and white patterns. The grasses that sprout through the path promise new growth, a summer full of lush fields and wildflowers. There are hundreds of tiny daises now that Theta’s looking for them. They pop up everywhere. Theta wonders how they manage to survive in such rough conditions. They suppose that the daisies just - keep going.

Theta gets up, brushing the dust off their trousers, their cheeks trembling and lined with hot tears.

“Thank you,” they say to the monk. “Thank you. I have to go. I have to talk to Koschei, and I should get caught up on my homework, and maybe if I apologise to Borusa - I mean, it can’t hurt. Thank you.”

The monk inclines their head ever so slightly. Theta turns and runs down the mountain path, the weariness driven from their limbs with their new drive to live. They shake their head to feel the wind rake through their hair, and they grab a handful of snow from the shining white patches of it left on the mountain just for the pleasure of throwing it as far as they can down the mountain and watching it crumble. They reach up to the clouds as if to touch them. They look soft and fluffy. 

Theta’s down the mountain in no time, cheeks flushed and mind racing. They look back once before beginning the trek to Koschei’s house. They can’t see the monk’s outline anymore, but they can just make out the gnarled old tree.

And then Theta starts to run.

**Author's Note:**

> [come yell at my tumblr](https://gay-star-knight.tumblr.com/)


End file.
